


Kevin was Born to be a Kitten, Trufax

by chalcopyrite



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, M/M, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalcopyrite/pseuds/chalcopyrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six snippets loosely connected by Kevin turning into a kitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kevin was Born to be a Kitten, Trufax

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and unapologetic. It's also the first thing that's felt easy to write all year. Apparently I needed more kittens.

**I.**

There is absolutely no reason for Kevin to turn into a fluffy white kitten. By all laws of logic -- yeah, like _logic_ applies here -- he should be dark brown and kinda curly, like one of those neat Rex cats. 

But no. White and fluffy.

Mike laughs himself sick the first time he sees him, because he starts snickering when he works out yeah, that's Kevin (Kevin's stunning use of the fridge letter-magnets he knocked down helped there), and Kevin tries to look offended but when he's like this, he just looks more and more big-eyed and tragic, and the situation kind of.... spirals.

Finally he gives up and goes and sits under the couch (and wow, they really need to vacuum better, because there's a dust-bunny under here as big as _him_ ) until Mike finally winds down, and then lies on the floor wheezing for a little bit, and then elbow-crawls his way over to peer under the couch.

"Hey, hey Kevin," he says, and then works out he's talking to the giant dust-bunny. "No, Kevin, c'mon, I'm sorry I laughed."

Kevin pouts at him and hunkers down further on his paws. He's not. that. easy.

"No, really I am. Come on out of there, you're gonna get eaten by upholstery." Mike wiggles a little bit closer and reaches one hand towards Kevin. Kevin flattens his ears at it, but then lets Mike scoop him up and pull him out from under the couch, not even banging his head on the frame on the way.

"You're tiny," Mike murmurs when he has Kevin all the way in the open, held in one hand with the other stroking gently between Kevin's ears. "In a good way!" Mike adds hastily when Kevin digs his claws into the base of his thumb. "Really a good way! Just -- where'd you put it all?"

Kevin doesn't know -- he gets headaches if he thinks about it too hard, and when he tried to figure it out with actual science he ran into a lot of words like _quantum_ and started worrying that he was going to disappear in on himself entirely like a folded sock. Mike's hand is comfy, though, and the gentle petting is really soothing -- he's just gonna have a nap right here. Kittens are allowed to have naps. It's like a rule.

"Gonna fall asleep on me?" Mike says, even quieter, and Kevin can feel the sway as he gets up, pulling Kevin in close to his chest so he doesn't fall. "'Sokay. Just -- you are going to turn back into you, right? Cause otherwise I'm going to have to come up with some really good excuses. And, y'know, you're cute like this but I kind of like you a little bigger."

Kevin flexes his paws and squeezes the side of Mike's hand, not really listening all that hard.

"Right, you're a cat right now, you're not answering. Um, I need something to eat, and I kind of need my hands, so can you just--" Mike eases him around and sort of slides him off his hand so Kevin ends up draped over Mike's shoulder, claws knotted in his old t-shirt and his tail dangling down somewhere around Mike's armpit.

"Awesome. Promise I won't stand up fast," Mike says, and pulls open the fridge. So of _course_ that's when Kevin turns back, sending both of them sprawling to the floor and halfway inside the fridge.

"Ow," Mike mumbles. "I think I broke my _face_."

"Sorry?"

"No, it's fine, get off me."

Kevin scoots sideways, because he _was_ kind of sitting on Mike's shoulder, and oh yeah, he doesn't have any pants on. He never knows where his clothes go when this happens. It's part of what gives him a headache.

Mike pushes himself out of the fridge and swings the door closed, sitting up against it facing Kevin. "You're you again."

"Yeah."

"You do that... often?"

Kevin blushes and looks at the floor. "Can I put some pants on before I tell you about it?"

Mike eyes him up and down and doesn't bother hiding the grin. "I dunno. I kind of like you this way."

**II.**

"So the cat thing," Mike prompts. He's running one hand up and down Kevin's back, and he has to feel the way Kevin tenses, but he just keeps petting. "This is new?"

"Not really," Kevin says, face mashed into the pillow. He takes a deep, pillowy breath and rolls over. "It just... sort of happens?"

"What, at random?"

Kevin shrugs as best he can lying down, because it's not, but he doesn't want to get into the phone call this afternoon and why his body -- his morphogenic field, Joe calls it -- decided being kitten-shaped was a better deal. Mike doesn't look like he's completely buying that, but he lets it go (for now, anyway) and asks, "So what about your brothers? They turn into cats too?"

"Um, no, it's -- Joe turns into a hedgehog sometimes."

"That's... really random."

Kevin lifts up on one elbow so Mike can really see his look of disbelief. He turns into a _cat_ when he's stressed out, but it's _Joe_ turning into a hedgehog that's weird?

"Right, nevermind." Mike pushes up so he can face Kevin. "Actually, I guess I can kind of see it. Okay, so what about Nick? He's secretly a giant wolf or something, right?"

Kevin collapses back on the pillows and mutters into his hand.

"He what?"

Kevin takes his hand away. "Nick turns into a bat, okay?"

Mike squints like he's trying to picture it. "I can see him as one of those big, what are they, fruit bats. Or maybe a vampire bat..."

Kevin shakes his head and holds up his fingers about two inches apart.

"Seriously?"

Kevin nods and bites his lip. His eyes slide up to Mike's and he bites his lip harder, but he can't control the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Mike holds his fingers up next to Kevin's and stares at them for a second, then flops down next to him. "That is the _best thing_ I have ever heard."

Kevin shouldn't laugh, he shouldn't, but he can't hold back the giggles. "I know. The first time it happened, we were in a motel room and he panicked. We didn't know what we were going to do if he hadn't turned back by the time we had to leave."

"So what'd you do?"

"Joe kicked us all out and stayed with him. When we came back with tacos, hey presto, no more bat."

Mike stares at the ceiling for a minute or so. "Your brother's the bat whisperer," he says at last. 

"He's more the Nick whisperer."

"Okay." Mike nods, still looking at the ceiling. "None of this makes any sense, you know that."

"I'm the one who turns into a kitten, I _know_ it doesn't make sense. I don't even know where my clothes go."

Mike snickers. "Wardrobe must love you."

"It really doesn't happen that often." Nick's panic that one time aside, they usually don't want to get _away_ from performing.

"Probably would have heard about it if it had, yeah."

Kevin shrugs. "Maybe. I mean, people assume a kitten's just a kitten." He stretches up and shoves his arms under the pillow. "Joe turned on set once," he muses. Joe had said he just couldn't stand to run that scene any more, but Kevin had seen him checking his phone over and over any time he got a break, and he kept looking sad when he put it back on his chair -- and then Kevin had distracted everyone while Nick tucked the miserable ball of prickles into his shirt and carried him back to the dressing room. 

"That must have taken some explaining."

"We invented a gatorade spill to explain why he didn't have clothes, and then said a fan must have gotten onto set and taken them." Kevin still feels a little bad about how much trouble that caused for security, trying to find out how someone unauthorised got onto set when of course, there wasn't anyone. 

"And you, furball?"

"Don't call me that," Kevin gripes, but he doesn't really mean the swat he aims at Mike's shoulder.

"Never turned into a kitten on stage?"

"Nope." Performing isn't what freaks Kevin out; meetings have come close a couple of times, though. But he's not thinking about that right now. "Kittens can't play guitar."

"Lucky."

"I'm magic."

Mike chuckles, but he doesn't disagree.

**III.**

Kevin's not usually much for being picked up.

It's not hard to think of reasons why: the lack of control, the reminder that he's currently very small and pick-up-able, oh yeah, _being treated like an actual animal_ , -- but.

But Mike asks -- apart from the time when he got Kevin out from under the couch, and Kevin didn't have to stay where Mike could reach him, anyway -- Mike asks if it's okay, and when he picks Kevin up, he's careful in a way that somehow makes Kevin feel like Mike's holding all of him, not just the amount that's currently cat-shaped.

What never, ever happens is being jerked out of a sound sleep by Mike snatching him up like a sack of, of _kitten_.

Kevin fights a little bit, but that just makes Mike's hand clutch tighter, and Mike never breaks the string of overhead swearing in order to explain, so Kevin has to look down at the carpet several feet below his toes and the _dog_ , cripes, there's a _strange dog_ and no wonder Mike picked him up, it's yapping and he can see its _teeth_ \--

"Ow, shit, ow, _quit that_ ," Mike says, and Kevin realises that the swearing's directed at him now, because he's sitting more or less on top of Mike's head and -- oh, oops. He peels his claws out of Mike's ear and tries to slink back to his shoulder without doing any more damage. Mike's hands come up to balance him, so Kevin feels pretty secure leaning over to hiss at the dog, which is still jumping and yapping around Mike's knees. He hopes whatever he's saying translates to something really rude in Dog.

It must, because the dog jumps even higher when it hears him, and Mike nearly trips over it when he tries to step forward. He has to move in this weird shuffle-step into the living room so they don't all go down in a heap.

"Did you bring this thing in here?" Mike demands. Kevin looks up from chattering his teeth at the dog (what, he has fangs, they're awesome and would be totally terrifying if the stupid mutt knew what was good for it... and wasn't several times bigger than Kevin but _whatever_ ) to see Joe leaning against the wall by the front door.

Leaning against the wall and _laughing his ass off_.

He has his phone out, and there's pretty much no hope that Nick at least isn't going to see footage of Kevin trying to climb Mike like a tree. Kevin just hopes everyone on the internet doesn't see it, too. Mike stops in the middle of the living room and glares at him.

Joe stops laughing enough to say, "Peanuts! Peanuts, c'mere!" in a sort of wheeze, but he doesn't sound even a little bit convincing. _Kevin_ wouldn't listen to that, but the dog sort of circles out from its assault on Mike's knees and gets close enough for Joe to grab it and snap a leash on.

"Let me just take her back out," he says. Kevin can hear him (and the stupid dog) on the sidewalk, and a car door opening. He squirms free of Mike's grip and leaps down to the floor, hustling over and climbing up onto the armchair, then to the shelves in the corner.

Joe comes back in, using that key Kevin is regretting ever giving him. He stops short when he almost runs into Mike, still standing in the middle of the living room and glaring.

"Sorry about that," Joe says, but he doesn't _sound_ sorry, since he'd have to stop _laughing_ for that, "I just wanted to see what Kevin would do with a dog, so I borrowed Peanuts and--"

Kevin doesn't wait to hear the rest of the explanation, just launches himself off the top of the shelves and onto Joe's head.

It's worth it. He can't use his hands for almost a whole day because they got stuck full of prickles, but it is so, so worth it.

\- - -

> _This young heartthrob was spotted looking like he'd done ten rounds with Catwoman! When asked, he said it was a real tiger, but wouldn't give us her name. Rowr!_

**IV.**  
[Content note: contains cat peen.]

The TV's on low, playing back some animal documentary that Kevin Tivo'd. Mike's not really watching it, even though his head's turned that way; he's focused on Kevin. Kevin _is_ watching the TV, so actual makeouts are off the table, but Mike's allowed to touch as long as he's not too distracting. Right now he's busy pushing the limits of what's "distracting": one hand's rubbing up and down Kevin's thigh where it's propped against Mike's, and the other one's sliding up under Kevin's shirt, rubbing at the soft skin of his belly.

Mike figures he'll wait until the inevitable scene with the lion chase, or the cheetah or whatever large predator is in this movie (he's seen a lot of nature documentaries recently, he knows how they go) before he tries to get Kevin's shirt _off_ , but this is pretty nice.

Kevin seems to think it's pretty nice too, from the way he stretches and leans back against Mike's chest. Only then he _keeps_ stretching, and then sort of folds in on himself, and Mike isn't sure how it happens, but now the belly he's rubbing has fur, and Kevin is not only blinking, he's twitching his whiskers.

Mike pauses. Kevin cranes his neck and makes hopeful ears at him.

"I thought this only happened when you felt -- threatened, or whatever," Mike says. "Or, uh -- you didn't, did you?" Shit, he wasn't doing something creepy without noticing, was he? Mike doesn't think he's usually creepy, but he also has a long history of people telling him he's wrong about that, and -- maybe Kevin has some deep trauma associated with belly rubs or something.

Kevin-the-cat just wiggles over and spreads out so Mike can reach more of his tummy, though, so that's probably not it.

"We should probably talk about this," Mike says, and Kevin gives him the closest cat equivalent of a shrug, then flattens himself a little more, in case Mike hasn't gotten the hint about the belly rubs.

"Yeah, yeah," Mike tells him, and goes back to petting. He could change the program, but Kevin's still watching the TV, and he has a lot more pointy ends when he's a cat, so Mike leaves it.

He gets kind of invested in the sweeping epic of the wildebeests' journey, or whatever this is -- it's interesting, and the scenery is amazing -- and just sort of zones out while he pets Kevin's tummy, mooshing it with his hand and running his fingers through the fur.

Kevin wraps both front paws around his wrist and chews on his shirt cuff a little -- it's kind of hilarious, how cat-like Kevin gets like this sometimes -- and it's fine, but when something bumps Mike's hand he looks down, ready to tell Kevin that if he tries to disembowel Mike's hand, all bets (and belly rubs) are off.

And, uh.

Yeah, Mike knew vaguely that cats' dicks are rough, but there's knowing that and then there's _seeing_ \-- it's vivid pink against Kevin's white belly fur, and it has _spikes_ all over it, and yeah, that's cat-Kevin's dick, right there. Hanging out.

It's kind of cone-shaped. Mike's still processing.

He's stopped rubbing Kevin's tummy, and Kevin first mows a protest then freezes in turn. He looks at Mike, then where Mike is looking. His round eyes get even rounder, and then he levitates off the couch (landing a paw solidly in Mike's crotch in the process) and sprints for the stairs on all four legs. There's a complicated falling sound at the top of the stairs, then two much heavier feet run down the hall to their bedroom.

Mike's still on the couch. He's just gonna stay here, thanks.

There's no Kevin for him to stare at now, so he transfers the freaked-out stare to his hand. Then he goes and washes his hands, because... it seems like the thing to do.

He goes back to the couch and sits down again, then has to stand halfway up, because his phone rings.

"You're calling me from upstairs?" is the first thing he asks. "Really?"

"Yeah," and from the echo behind Kevin's voice, he's not only calling from upstairs, he's shut himself in the bathroom. 

Mike waits a few seconds, but when there's nothing else coming, he asks, "Are you okay?"

"Sorry!" Kevin blurts out. "I'm -- really sorry about that, it's -- I don't -- sorry!"

"That's..." It's not okay. "Is that likely to happen when we're -- you know." Mike can't bring himself to say "fucking," because a) Kevin doesn't like the word and b) he doesn't really even want to think about fucking in the same sentence as... that. There were _hooks_ on it, and -- he really doesn't want to think about it.

"I don't know!" Kevin's sounding more and more distressed, and if Mike had attention to spare from his own personal freakout, he'd worry about that, really he would. He just doesn't right now.

Neither of them says anything for a little bit. The casing of Mike's phone creaks quietly; Kevin breathes at him.

"I don't know what happened," Kevin says "I don't. I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh."

"It just -- it felt nice! What you were doing. Not the -- I mean -- Mike, please say something or I'm just going to keep talking--"

"Rubbing you," Mike says. "Rubbing your -- your stomach. Not-- the other." He can say it. "Your dick."

Kevin's outraged squeak is just the same noise he makes when Mike takes the last cookie and pretends he isn't going to share, or when he starts playing connect-the-dots with the freckles on Kevin's shoulders. It's also the noise he makes when Mike waves a feather over his head, then yanks it away just before his claws can latch onto it.

The strangled groan he makes right after that is not quite like any other noise Mike has heard him make, which is fine; he doesn't really want to think of this conversation at random intervals for the next year.

"Yeah," Kevin says. "That."

"Does ... that ... usually happen when things feel good?"

"I don't know!" Kevin yelps out. "I swear, I've never seen that thing before!"

Mike remembers Kevin's round eyes and starts giggling. He tries to keep it quiet, but they just pile up and pretty soon he's snorting into the phone.

" _What?_ "

"Kevin," Mike gasps out. "Kevin, you just got freaked out by your _own dick!_ "

There's a stunned silence on the other end of the phone, then Kevin starts laughing too. "I _did_ ," he wails. "Help!"

"I don't know what you want me to do," Mike tells him. "Something like desensitisation therapy?"

From the muffled sound of Kevin's "Aagh!", he's stuffed his face into a towel. 

He doesn't sound like he's terminally traumatised, though, so Mike takes his time winding down. Because seriously. Freaked out by his own dick.

... It's not _attached to Mike_ , that's totally different.

Finally, when Kevin's only moaning quietly about how what's been thought can never be unthought, and Mike can get out a whole sentence without hiccuping in the middle, that Mike asks, "So, are you planning on coming back down any time soon?"

"Um." Mike can hear Kevin fiddling with things on the bathroom counter. "I wasn't sure you'd want me to."

"Well, you're human now," Mike reasons. "You're not -- it's -- you should come back down."

"Okay." Something goes clank into the sink. "Um, in just a minute."

"Sure," Mike says, and hangs up so Kevin can deal with whatever just tipped over.

It's a few more minutes -- the zebras have long since crossed the crocodile-filled river, and now the program's talking about some kind of tree with giant thorns -- but finally Mike hears the scuff of Kevin's feet in the doorway. He pretends not to hear, and after another few seconds Kevin comes over to the sofa and sits down very carefully on the other end. He's fully dressed -- actually, "fully dressed" doesn't even cover it: he's wearing jeans, with a belt, and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up enough to lurk behind. He's not wearing shoes, but that's about the only thing he might be missing.

There's a few minutes where Mike looks at Kevin, and Kevin looks at the wall, and then Kevin says, "I liked that shirt."

They never have figured out where Kevin's clothes go when he does this. Other things like his cell phone seem to stay behind, and his wallet and stuff -- which is good, otherwise he'd run up a fortune in replacement phones and driver's licenses -- but his clothes vanish along with him and never seem to come back.

So Kevin only wears things he doesn't care too much about if he knows he's going to have a stressful day or whatever. He probably wasn't thinking that way when they settled in for the zebras' epic journey or whatever.

"Sorry," Mike offers. Kevin looks sideways at him, and Mike shrugs. "I was petting you at the time, so I figure it's at least partly my fault, right?"

"I don't know." Kevin looks away. "I wasn't expecting to -- you know." He waves his hands to vaguely indicate cat ears. "This sucks."

Right, because -- if it's not just fear or feeling threatened or trapped or whatever that triggers the change, Kevin's life could get a lot more.... well, until they really pin down what makes him turn into a cat, going anywhere public is going to be risky.

"So I think we should experiment -- not like that!" Mike adds hastily as Kevin's eyes go wide. "I meant -- making you feel good. Not -- agh, no." He's so very glad no one else is hearing this conversation. "Just, to see if it happens all the time?"

"And what if it does?" Kevin's not moving from his end of the sofa.

"Then--" Mike stalls out, because he hadn't really thought that through. Maybe they could take turns, and just -- no, that still leaves Mike jerking off a cat, and -- okay, he's been lectured on kink-acceptance by some of the best or at least the most annoying, but he's not going to lie and say that's not a problem. "We'll work something out?"

Kevin doesn't look convinced, but he's not leaving, so. Mike will take what he can get. He lifts his arm along the back of the sofa. "You could come over here, you know."

Kevin doesn't say anything, but he does slide over a little bit and tuck himself against Mike's side.

The program onscreen has moved on to birds nesting in between tree-spines, and even if everyone's keeping their feet on the floor and their hands to themselves, they're at least in the same room. It's okay. They'll be okay.

**V.**

Randomly turning into something about the size of his own foot and covered in fur sometimes has its downsides -- Kevin still misses that pair of boots -- but the upsides really really make up for it.

Right now he's about halfway up the shelves in the hallway. He's climbing the side with books in it, because the space between the shelves is too big for him to reach over, and he has to dig his claws into the spines for purchase. It's like his very own adventure movie. He's scaled Cheesy Romance Cliff and is readying himself for an assault on Meaningful Books From Friends Outcrop (complete with Chicken Soup Ravine) when he hears Mike's key in the door. Swim practice must be over.

"I'm home," Mike yells, then hushes himself when he sees Kevin right there. "Hey, you."

Kevin squeaks a hello and keeps figuring out his climbing route. The best part is, he can rearrange the books when he has thumbs, so this never gets boring.

"Everything okay?" Mike asks, scooping him off the shelf. "This is happening more often."

Kevin mews again in reply, because that's all he *can* say right now, or at least all that comes out. Mike rubs under his chin with one finger, and Kevin slumps into it for a second before he remembers that he had a project under way, here, and struggles against Mike's hand to get back to the shelf.

"Right, fine," Mike says, and puts Kevin back on the shelf. "I'm gonna go have a shower."

Kevin's another shelf up and stretching over the tricky section of Old School Books Stacked Sideways before Mike comes back. He says something, but Kevin's kind of distracted so he doesn't really hear, and it's not like he can ask Mike to repeat it. He focuses instead on getting all the way to the top of the shelves.

He hears Mike moving around in the house, and turning the TV on, but he's focused on this. There's a clump of dust up on the very top of the shelves, and he's gonna get it. He's gearing up for the very last shelf when the smell of meat and garlic makes him drool and sneeze all at the same time, but he's not going to let the dust get away. It's taunting him, he can tell.

He pulls himself up from the Oddly Sized Small Books over the edge with a lot of claw-scrabbling, and spends three very satisfying seconds pouncing on the dustball and making it cower in fear and then flee onto the floor. It's when he looks over after it that he remembers, oh yeah -- from up here, it's a long way down.

Reasons Mike is the best: when Kevin hollers for him, he comes straight away and brings a chair to stand on, even though Kevin blew him off earlier. "It's always gonna be too high, little dude," he says as he lifts Kevin down. Kevin panics for a second when there's nothing he can see holding him up, but then he latches his claws into Mike's shirt and settles in, purring against his shoulder.

He feels Mike sigh as much as hears him. "Are things okay?" Mike asks, after a minute or so of scritches that leave Kevin pretty much melted into his shoulder. Kevin doesn't worry about responding, just lets the sound of the words flow over him. "I mean, if something's wrong, can you -- you can tell me. Not right now, obviously," he adds, "but when you're -- big."

Kevin just purrs, and Mike snorts. "Right." He carries Kevin across to the couch and slouches down, propped up in the corner of the armrest. Kevin hears Food Network come on the TV -- Mike is unexpectedly invested in Cupcake Wars -- and stretches his claws out before he re-settles them into new folds of cloth.

Mike's heart is strong and steady under his right ear, and Kevin tunes out on the sound of that and the background noise of the TV, interspersed with the occasional snort of laughter or muttered comment from Mike. 

When he wakes up, it takes him a second or two to figure out what's different. He's still on the couch, and Mike's warm and slack underneath him, pressed all along one side. The TV's muttering away to itself about fondant, and Kevin can feel the weight of the blanket off the back of the couch over his shoulders.

Oh. He's human again, all fingers and toes present and correct, and someone pulled the blanket down so he didn't get cold. Someone. Mike.

"You could have woken me up," he says softly. Mike doesn't startle, which is how Kevin knows he was awake already. 

"You were too cute to wake up," he says back, just as softly. One hand drifts up under the blanket and ruffles at the back of Kevin's hair. "I didn't need to go anywhere."

"Mmm." Kevin turns his face further into Mike's chest. He could feel awkward about this, but he's ended up naked in much worse circumstances; this barely makes the radar apart from the bit where he changed back in his sleep. He doesn't think that's happened before. "Sorry. For squashing you."

"'S okay." Mike keeps petting, and it starts to lull Kevin again. He's not sleeping, but he's floating somewhere definitely not-awake when he thinks he hears Mike say, "Wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

Kevin wants to protest, wants to say he'd tell Mike if he only knew, but he can't sort the words out, and it's much too dark and warm and quiet to try.

**VI.**

Mike comes in the door only about five minutes after Joe, so he gets probably the worst possible impression of Joe sticking his head under the couch and trying to coax Kevin out.

"What the hell?"

Joe ignores him and keeps reaching for Kevin, and Kevin finally lets himself be scooped up.

"Kevin, are you okay?"

Kevin meeps and waves his paws around, because seriously, this is _so great_ and he's really happy for Joe and oh, it's going to be awesome. He just -- got a little overwhelmed, and then he was suddenly a kitten and okay, he freaked out a little. 

"Seriously, Kevin," Joe repeats, and oops, he sounds a little freaked out. "You dropped the phone and didn't pick up!"

Well, no, obviously, he's a cat; he can't answer the phone -- or he _could_ , since it's got a touchscreen, but it wouldn't do much good, since all he could do then is mew. Kevin wiggles out of Joe's hands and squeezes back under the sofa. His phone's still in one piece, at least, so he bats it out into the middle of the room. He'll have to check if it's still working.

Only not now, maybe, because Mike's got Joe backed up against the wall by the door and pinned by one shoulder. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing!" Joe squeaks out. He waves his arms a little. "Good news!"

Mike growls -- actually _growls_ , it does things to the fur on Kevin's neck -- and shakes Joe. "What did you say?"

Joe fidgets for a second, but he can't keep the grin in. "I'm gonna be a dad!"

"What?" Mike lets go of Joe and Joe slides out from between him and the wall to scoop Kevin up again.

"Yup!" He holds Kevin way up in the air. "Kevin's gonna be an uncle!"

Kevin makes superman arms. 

"And that's -- bad news?" Mike asks. He glances at Kevin. "He looks pretty psyched about it."

Kevin mews his agreement. _Totally_ psyched. He's already planning presents. 

"I didn't think so," Joe says. He lowers Kevin so he can peer into his face. Kevin wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue, just because. "But maybe -- I dunno."

"Yeah?"

Joe shrugs, and shifts Kevin to his shoulder before perching on the end of the couch. "It's complicated. Family, you know." 

There's a long, slow pause, then Mike offers like it's being dragged out of him, "If you want to talk..."

"Oh god, no!" Joe blurts. "Um, I mean. I can talk to Nick."

"Good!" Mike probably didn't mean to sound that relieved. He flops down on the couch at the opposite end from Joe.

Kevin feels a warm tingling along his spine, pushing out through the end of his tail, and he pushes off and sprints for the doorway before he ends up suddenly naked and cuddling in his brother's lap. And human. It's different when he's a kitten and fur totally counts.

He's fighting with a hoodie when he comes back down, so he can't hear what they're saying, but when he pauses in the doorway, Mike's kind of patting Joe on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, then."

"Yeah," Kevin echoes. He crosses the room and tugs Joe up off the couch so he can hug him properly. "You're gonna be a great dad. I'm really happy for you." He knows that's not all there is to it, but it's the part Joe needs to hear right now.

"You sure?" Joe pulls back a little so he can see Kevin's face. "'Cause you, y'know." He manages to convey Kevin's sudden kitten-ness with a weird little finger-wiggle. They're still not good about talking about it out loud, and Joe in particular was always afraid his mouth would get away from him.

"I'm sure." Kevin yanks him back in and catches Mike's eyes over Joe's shoulder. Mike looks a little doubtful, like he's not sure he's allowed, but when Kevin rolls his eyes he steps up -- steps in -- and makes it a three-way hug with Joe squashed in the middle. Kevin -- he _does not_ purr -- squeezes a little bit tighter on his end, too, because Mike gives awesome hugs and it makes him happy to share them.

"Okay," Joe says when the hug breaks up. "I should go -- I've other things to do than checking on your fuzzy butt." He scritches Kevin's hair. "But -- thanks. And -- yeah." His grin says the rest of it for him, and Kevin darts in to give him another tiny hug, just because.

"See you later."

Mike just waves.

When the door closes behind Joe and they hear his car leave -- sometimes he forgets things and comes back -- Mike slides up behind Kevin and asks, "What was that all about?"

Kevin shrugs and tackles the part of the question he can cope with. "Joe's always wanted kids. Or a kid. I'm glad he's starting with just one."

Mike snorts. "No, I mean the part where you got spooked and kittenified."

"Yeah, it's -- I'm not sure." Kevin doesn't want to have this conversation standing in the middle of the living room. He pushes Mike down onto the couch and arranges himself so he's pretty much sitting sideways across Mike's lap. He'd feel silly but to heck with it, there's no one here to laugh at him. "I really am happy for him -- for them."

"You said you changed when you got scared or needed to get away." Mike's quiet, like he's just waiting for Kevin to fill in the bits.

Kevin nods to himself. "I do! Or I did. I think it's -- it's not when I get spooked, or not just. It's -- when things are just too much, I think. I need more space to feel it all in."

"Huh." Mike thinks about that for a second. "So should I feel insulted you've never changed during sex?"

"Agh!" When Kevin thumps him in the ribcage, Mike bursts out laughing and there's a short -- but fierce! -- cushion fight.

"Uncle!" Mike calls. "Uncle, uncle. I'm kidding, please never do that."

"Now that's gonna be all I can think about," Kevin grumbles, but he settles back in on Mike's shoulder. "I dunno. It's not bad, I don't think. I'm happy."

Mike pulls him in a little closer. "Me too."

"Sap."

"And I can admit it without hiding under the sofa."

And that turns into another cushion fight, but the way Mike laughs is what Kevin was angling for, so it's all good as far as he's concerned.


End file.
